


Kindly Lend a Helping Hand

by GayNidoKing



Series: Love on an Atom [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Acquaintances to Lovers, Anal Sex, Awkward Flirting, Light Dom/sub, Mild Voice Kink, Nonbinary Character, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Other, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, Sexting, Size Difference, Teasing, emotional foreplay, neurodivergent character, technically canon compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:07:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23741284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GayNidoKing/pseuds/GayNidoKing
Summary: Over a year after being released, Siebren has settled into a routine of work, work, and more work. He is making leaps and bounds in his research, in no small part due to the seemingly endless supply of money and resources his mysterious employers are willing to provide. As much as he loves his research, he needs a distraction sometimes. He finds it in the form of Cash Wilson-Stride, a marine biologist also spending their days working a thankless job in the middle of nowhere. They find a good routine together, food and good conversation, and find in each other a respite from their busy work lives. After an incident, however, Siebren realizes there may be something else they can give each other.Renamed and significantly edited: 8/8/2020. Previously: "Some Rest."
Relationships: Sigma | Siebren de Kuiper/Original Character
Series: Love on an Atom [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1871413
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	Kindly Lend a Helping Hand

**Author's Note:**

> Did this start because I was sick of dom!Sigma fics? Perhaps. I don't even know if this is any good. I don't really write smut, because I'm not very good at it. I was possessed by a spiteful spirit of inspiration, however, and this is the result.
> 
> Any typos in text conversations are purposeful. Any blatant OOC-ness is not. I will probably tweak this as time goes on as I realize I've horribly mischaracterized Sigma, or perhaps even my own damn oc.
> 
> Yes, I just added like 4,000 more words to this fic, and yes like 2,000 of them were more smut. I also gave Cash more personality (and less ambiguous bits, because I was called out for them being a thinly veiled self insert and figured why not embrace it :p), and gave Sigma some more nerves.

"What are you looking at?"

Siebren didn't blink or look away from the window, nor give any acknowledgement that he’d heard. Not because he was intentionally being rude, but because he knew he had the freedom to do so. Aside from Moira, Cash seemed to be the only person who didn’t mind whether he physically acknowledged them right away. That was a comfort on days like today, when his mind felt like it was light years away from his body. Tearing his gaze away from the sky was too much energy.

He could still answer their question, couldn't he?

He was looking at infinity. An expanse of possibility and undiscovered truth. He saw lights far away, winking back like so many eyes. Unconscious, he'd once thought, like stones floating in the void. The correct arrangement of atoms to start a reaction, no intelligence or higher thought...or music. He was looking for the ghosts of equations he had once known like the back of his hand. The back of his hand, now scarred from the nervous scratching, the nervous biting, the clumsy little accidents. Not as recognizable as they’d once been.

He flipped his palms up.

"What are  _ you  _ looking at?" His tone was light, genuinely curious. It was a challenge, but not a hostile one.

His companion shifted. He heard it, but he still wasn't facing them. He heard the scrape of their plate, the clink of a mug set down on the table.

"Right now? A very tall man who needs to eat more."

He huffed. "Not  _ me _ , Cash. Out the window."

"Oh, well. I see stars, obviously. And all that cloudy stuff. More stars, I guess?” Their tone was neither mocking nor overly sarcastic. They honestly didn’t know if they were seeing stars, and that was a nonissue. “If this was the ocean I could tell you what it was. It'd probably be algae. Is there algae in space? Space algae seems like..."

Their soft spoken rambling was a good distraction. It took a turn into the scientifically improbable, and then delved into pure science fiction, and then took another turn back around into possible, but not in space.

He turned to look at them while they talked.

Cash. His distraction. His friend. Long dyed curls, blues and greens and purples all mixed, pulled back from a collection of dark freckles over their forehead. Brown eyes framed by thin lashes and just a hint of blue eyeshadow, and dark bags. They were looking at their cup, drawing some kind of design with their straw wrapper in the condensation. Their brows were furrowed in concentration as they spoke.

"... _jellyfish_ can survive in zero g, though, so really it's not that far of a stretch. You would need to breed a few generations to fix up their navigational senses, but once you get that out of the way, you're golden." They trailed off, no doubt getting lost in their own world of possibility and discovery. They turned the cup towards him so he could view their handiwork. He hummed appreciatively at the incomprehensible squiggles and lines. 

"All you must do is secure the funding," he joked, "and the sky is yours."

They laughed, and changed the subject. “You ever think that, like...space is basically the ocean, just... _ way _ bigger.”

“I hadn’t thought of it like that,” he said. They’d had this conversation before, several times, almost verbatim. It was a safe topic, and one that let both of them flex their academic muscles without bulldozing the other.

They sighed, a bit romantically and a bit wistfully. They cupped their chin and looked out the window at the sky. “A vast and unexplored and  _ dark _ place...but there’s so much  _ in _ there. Or out there, in your case.” Another romantic sigh, and Cash reached for his water. Their voice took on a new tone, the excited breathless delight of a person talking about their passion. “That’s what I really love, you know. The conservation, of course, that’s my job, but just the...exploration. The discovery. You get that too, don’t you?”

They took a sip of his water and held it out for him to take back. Their lip gloss left a purple tint on the straw. He tasted cherries as he drank.

“I do.” He looked down at his plate now. He’d barely touched most of his food. The potatoes were long gone, and the coffee had been the first thing to vanish, but the meat was untouched. “It’s still a rush to think about it, even after all this time.”

“It is,” they agreed. “Who knows? Maybe if I’d looked up instead of out, we would’ve been colleagues! Isn’t that a thought!”

“Maybe,” he agreed.

This was usually the point in a conversation where his partner would grow sick of his monotone, non committal answers. Cash didn’t mind. They’d told him once that so long as he wasn’t yawning or snoring in their face, he could be as dismissive as he liked.

“Do you want my potatoes?” They took a last sip of his water and gestured to their food.

“Yes please.”

They swapped plates. He finished their untouched potatoes (they hated the texture) and they devoured everything else on his plate (he disliked the tastes.) As they ate, Cash gave him a long look over.

"You look tired, Siebren."

He winced. "I am tired."

"You need a break," they started, but he cut them off.

"My work is too important...I'm too close."

They clicked their tongue, and wagged a finger at him.

“You can’t finish anything well if you’re too tired to function.”

He hummed, drumming his finger on the table.

“I have neglected my research for long enough.” Not by his choice, of course. 

Cash sighed. "I know." They took one final sip of his water. "Hold on, I'm gonna go pay."

He hummed, and watched after them for a moment. He took one more sip of faintly cherry flavored water, and waited.

While they were away, his gaze drifted out the window again to the sky. That sky was once so familiar, so welcome...now it seemed a hostile and strange place. The stars looked back at him, and not for the first time since his release, he wondered if he meant that literally.

Cash returned with a coffee to go for him. They set it down on the table for him to pick up, and gave him a sunny smile.

“Same time next week?”

“Of course.” He returned their smile, a bit smaller.

They parted ways at the door with a firm grasp of forearms, a halfway point between Cash’s social habits and Siebren’s dislike of hugs. One of the many happy mediums they’d found since meeting.

Waiting for him around the corner was a black car with tinted windows and blank plates, in the exact same place he'd left it hours before. He wasn’t sure what the driver did while he ate, but the man never seemed to leave the driver’s seat.

The door unlocked as he approached, and locked before he’d fully settled in his seat. It had unsettled him at first, but he was used to it now. His employers took security very seriously.

He had been in Rome for...oh, the months blended together now. A while, since his release. He'd had a brief few months to recuperate, meeting frequently with doctors, and then had been eagerly allowed to return to work.

On the ride back to his apartment, Siebren texted Cash. It was a more involved conversation than the one they’d had in the cafe, as emojis and exclamation points allowed for more emotional displays than either of them were comfortable with in public.

**C: What’s the verdict for today?**

**S: The eggs are enjoyable. The meat was far too seasoned for my taste.**

**C: I could make a joke, but I won’t**

**C: Next time you get that meat, I’ll eat it**

They teased him a bit for another failed attempt at trying something new, but with the promise that they were more than willing to help him try again next week.

He enjoyed Cash’s company. They were younger than him, significantly so, and while they were as established as he was in their field, had a mind for fanciful scenarios while he preferred those grounded in reality. They also had no qualms filling up the silence when he fell into silent lapses, and didn’t even get annoyed if he spaced out and didn’t pay attention to what they said (most of the time, anyway.)

They’d met several months ago, by chance. His work kept him busy, especially considering the seemingly endless supply of money and supplies his employers were willing to throw at his research. It was a dream come true, truth be told, but it was overwhelming. Because while he enjoyed his work like nothing else, even he knew there were times one needed to walk away. When the time came that he was working in his dreams, and his hands shook with caffeine and detached euphoria, he knew it was time to step back.

So he had done just that. He walked away for a day, gotten a ride two towns over, and wandered around. There was an academy here, one that years ago he might have liked the chance to work for. Their libraries were large and some were open to the public. It had been nice to immerse himself in the intellectual results of someone  _ else’s _ work for a while. And there he met Cash, who was trying to do the same thing. They were here for research as well, helping the local governments clean up the coasts and conserve marine life that had been disrupted by the Omnic Crisis. 

They struck up conversation with him, recognizing another overworked academic, and after a lunch date, the two came to the conclusion that they should be each other’s distractions. Cash knew absolutely nothing about astrophysics, but they listened to his first (he was a bit embarrassed of his past eagerness now) impromptu lecture with wide, appreciative eyes. Rather than roll their eyes, yawn, or politely excuse themself after he talked at them for several hours (and drew several diagrams on the back of a pamphlet already crowded with information), they had asked him if he wanted to go to lunch.

And now they were here. Every week on Wednesday, they met at this cafe, a small breakfast/brunch place owned by a local family that served the academy’s students and didn’t bat an eye at two more “nerds” (the cashier’s words, not his) dominating a table for an afternoon. If possible they sat on the balcony, but on overcast days like today they had an upstairs table they’d claimed right beside the window. It had a dazzling view of the sky and the sea, fodder enough for either of them to strike up a conversation. Cash always ate their entire plate, and helped him finish off what he didn’t finish on his own. They stole sips of his water, and he drank two cups of coffee.

The routine away from his routine felt like a blessing, giving him much needed time out of his lab, away from his...coworkers, if you could call them that.

He wasn’t ashamed or afraid to admit that it was lonesome at the lab. He had assistants that worked with him, and he had doctors that constantly checked in on him, and that was it. There were no peers to talk with, no academy heads to wrestle with. It was something of a dream come true, to be honest, being left alone with nothing but his research and a team competent enough to contribute to it. But it got a bit maddening, seeing the same faces and the same walls and the same unforgiving formulas day after day.

It was a long drive back to the lab. He and Cash had enough time to fully explore the concept of dolphin astronauts before the building rose up from the horizon.

His lab was in a remote location, far enough away that he didn’t have to worry about traffic or tourists disturbing him. It was an intimidating building, a harsh structure rising from the otherwise rolling hills around it. It was only three stories, but the metal blinds, plain white bricks, and heavy barred doors reminded him of...well, of places he'd rather forget. Despite how much he enjoyed his work, and the resources he had to complete it, the building itself never failed to unsettle him.

The driver opened the door for him, and followed close on his heels into the building.

As soon as he arrived, he was off to the medbay to be poked at. He was so used to this routine by now that he had his shirt off almost before Dr. Frank had closed the door behind them.

“Eager as ever, I see.” Dr. Frank gave a thin smile that wasn’t aimed at anything in particular. He was a tall, surprisingly young man with wide eyes that never matched the expression on his face. He never made small talk or gave any effort to ensure Siebren was comfortable during their visits. He was dedicated to his job, and had no patience for anything else. Something Siebren respected, even if it was another uncomfortable sidebar to his work.

“I would like to get back to work,” he said frankly.

“Of course. It’ll be just a moment, let me just download the readings.” The device the doctor pulled out looked wicked, sharp prongs and a thin wire. He gave no further warning before circling behind him and sliding it into the base of Siebren’s skull.

His hiss of pain was ignored, as usual.

This was one of the things he absolutely detested about this new arrangement. The device embedded in his upper body and head wasn’t comfortable by any stretch. The arms that stretched over the expanse of his back often left him claustrophobic and a bit on edge. It monitored his heart rate, his bodily functions, and rudimentary brain functions so that they could better track and control his newfound powers. Given his lack of control when he’d first been released from custody, it had been determined that he needed some form of monitoring to make sure nothing went wrong. He agreed with that, he just wished it wasn’t so uncomfortable.

It was nearly half an hour he sat there while Dr. Frank downloaded and read the readings from the afternoon. While he waited for the all-clear to get back to work, Siebren texted Cash.

**S: Tell your cats I said hello**

**C: I will**

**C: Aren’t you suposed to be working?**

**S: I will be. Still being cleared**

**C: Oof**

**C: That’s one good thing about not being your colleague I suppose**

**C: I can come and go as I please :)**

**S: You also don’t possess universe defining secrets**

**C: True. But I do possess a universe defining ass so**

**C: Who’s the real winner here?**

They continued their light-hearted conversation even while Siebren listened with half an ear as Dr. Frank questioned him about why his heart rate spiked here or why his breath stopped there.

Cash sent him a picture of one of their cats, an ugly tomcat with half an ear missing and a mouthful of crooked teeth.

He retreated to his lab immediately. His assistants all greeted him with tired faces. He felt a bit bad for them. He was being propelled through his research by a feverish ambition, and the consuming knowledge that he was  _ right _ and so  _ close _ to unlocking the secrets he so desperately needed to know. His poor assistants didn’t have that luxury. They were here fueled by caffeine and, from what he understood, a respectable but nonnegotiable paycheck.

“Welcome back, boss.” His senior tech approached him first, notebook in hand. He could read on her face that she had nothing groundbreaking to report. “I’ve got, uh...good news and bad news?”

“Out with it.” He took the offered notes, frowning as he scanned through them. The weight settled on his shoulders easily, and he carried it with resigned familiarity.

“Good news is everything’s working the way we thought it would. Bad news is…”

“It’s doing exactly what we thought it would,” he finished. His frown deepened and he felt the beginning of a headache forming behind his eyes. Luckily, she also had a cup of coffee prepared for him, taken from the tray that got delivered every three hours for the five of them to share.

She grimaced. “Yeah. Something’s off.”

She led him back towards the machine they had been working on in the back. It was dormant now, and the silence tormented him. The entire day’s worth of readings and notes were laid out on the table, tracking each and every aspect of his continued failure.

She walked him through their process, and within it he found the issue. Or, rather,  _ re- _ found the issue.

T his one damned equation. Most of the night he would be awake, trying to solve it as he had been for weeks. It wasn’t supposed to be something difficult. They had tracked it down as the source of their continued troubles. He had quintuple checked it every day, but every time he tried to apply it, something went wrong. Maybe his math was off, or he’d missed something vital. But neither he nor his assistants could figure out what had gone awry.

H e sighed deeply, put his phone on silent, and threw himself into it again.

Seven days he agonized over it to no avail. Time passed in a monotonous, maddening blur, and then he was at the cafe, sitting across from Cash by the window. It was pouring rain outside. He’d arrived first for once, and they came in a few minutes later, shaking a small umbrella decorated with patterns of constellations and shooting stars.

“Sorry!” They reached out and grasped his forearm in greeting before sitting heavily down in their seat. They let out a huge breath, shaking stray raindrops out of their face. Drops clung to their eyelashes and their upper lip, which didn’t seem to bother them as much as the ones in their eyebrows.

“No trouble at all.” He waved their apology away. “It’s only been a few minutes. I ordered for you. I assumed you wanted your usual.”

Cash had never ordered anything even slightly different in the months they’d been coming here. Siebren was more adventurous, and was still working through every possible combination of every menu item. 

They beamed at him. “Thanks! You treat me so well.”

He grunted in response, and turned his attention back to the notebook in front of him. He was humming absently, a familiar melody that calmed him.

They looked at the table in front of him, eyebrow raised. “Oh, I see you brought work with you today.” There was something in their tone, but he was too distracted to dissect it.

“Yes. I have been having a great deal of trouble.” He said it with some apology, but he had no intentions of putting it away. “I am not on a hard deadline at the moment, but I would prefer to have this figured out by the next time my employers come to visit.”

“Well...I know literally nothing about astrophysics, but maybe I can be a good sounding board?”

“Perhaps.”

And bless them, they tried. Siebren talked through the entire equation twice, explaining everything he thought could have gone wrong. They offered the appropriate “hm’s” and “oh’s” and even a “That sounds right,” when he sounded particularly confident about something. At one point he was present enough to see their eyes briefly cross, but they blinked away their daze as soon as he saw it.

As much as he appreciated their attempted assistance, it wasn’t enough. He was throwing himself at this cliffside, and he would continue to do so until he’d dashed himself to bones. Their food arrived and his plate sat completely untouched. He barely paused to sip his coffee, and didn’t even register whether he enjoyed this new flavor or not.

After the fourth time he went through it, detail by excruciating detail, he hit his breaking point.

His frustration grew to a boiling point. “I just don’t  _ see _ the breakdown!” His voice raised slightly, and Cash leaned away from him. “Everything  _ should _ be working.”

“Whoa...hey, I get that you’re frustrated, but just take a breath, take a break.” They laughed nervously, putting down their fork and pushing their plate away.

“I cannot.” His voice came out harsher than he intended. They recoiled, but he continued. “This is too important!”

He got up from his seat, and Cash jumped back. He heard their gasp, but it was muffled like he was in a glass tank. He put his coffee cup down roughly as he began to move back and forth in front of the table. He couldn’t stand to sit, too confined, too small, too overwhelmed.

“This is my entire life, and I cannot let it all slip away because of one  _ number _ !” He felt tension rising in him like a coiled wire, shaking beneath his skin. What wasn’t helping was the  _ damned _ piano playing over the radio, loud enough almost to drown out his thoughts. Hadn’t he complained about that before? “I will  _ not _ \--”

"Stop."

Their voice cut through his mind like a hot knife through butter. He froze, as if brought up by a leash.

“Look at me.”

He turned slowly. Cash was standing up now, looking into his face. Their tone was firm. Their mouth formed a hard line. They reached forward slowly and for a brief panicked moment he thought they were going to touch him. They didn't. They grabbed his coffee cup, floating a few inches away from his open hand, and pulled it out of his influence. They looked at his face (they were looking at his nose, they’d admitted to him once, not his eyes), gaze hard enough to keep his attention.

“Calm down,” they said. They weren’t raising their voice, or even talking in an overly harsh tone. But they were demanding his attention,  _ demanding _ he acknowledge them if not obey. “I know you’re frustrated, and I know you’ll figure this out. But you need to calm down, right now.”

“I--”

His argument was swiftly cut off.

“Siebren.” They said his name like a command in itself, and he felt himself straighten up unconsciously. “I know you’re frustrated. But this is not the time or the place for this.”

He realized he was floating. Well, he was  _ always _ floating, but now he was  _ noticeably _ floating several inches off the ground. Their plates, their forks and knives, and, yes, Cash’s tea were all hovering as well. They circled him slowly in a tight orbit.

There was no fear in Cash’s eyes, he realized, as they watched him. There was...an unexpectedly gentle feeling there, nearly hidden behind the hard air of authority.

They took one step closer to him, and held out their hands. “I’m not going to hurt you. No one here is going to hurt you.” They looked into his eyes, for just a brief moment, and he felt a shock go down his spine. “You need to calm down. This is  _ not _ the end of the world.”

There was something about their tone that caught him. It was so even, so measured. They weren’t yelling, but they spoke with gravity. What could he do but fall willingly into it?

He felt himself taking a deep breath. As he exhaled, the ground came up to meet him, stopping half an inch away from his toes. One by one, Cash grabbed the slowly floating items around him, placing them on the table where they belonged.

“Good.”

His chest squeezed as they said that. They meant it, obviously, with relief bleeding into their commanding tone. He heard them let out their own breath and they motioned to his chair in one strong motion.

“Sit.”

He did. They set the table in place, and he looked around.Had anyone seen? There was no one else up here but them.

He began to breathe slower, feeling himself come down from the outburst. He felt shame rise up in him. What a ridiculous show.

He leaned forward and rubbed at his eyes. He needed something to drink. Something caffeinated and sweet.

“Do you want to go home?” Cash asked. His attention snapped back to them. They were standing still, looking down at him. There was open concern on their face, eyes narrowed at him. They reached out and he leaned forward. They pressed their palm against his forehead. “You feel fine, but you’re flushed.”

“Yes.” He took a deep breath, and it was shakier than he wanted. “I need to rest.”

“Okay.” They nodded, and put his mug down on the table. He watched their hands as they returned to their sides, half-clenched into fists. “I’ll get the check. Sit here, and don’t move until I get back.”

“Yes.”

They were gone for only a few moments. When they came back, they looked a bit harried, but they gave him a smile.

“It’s taken care of.” Their voice was still sure and even, not even a bit breathless from what they’d seen. He reached for his notebook, but they blocked his hand with theirs. “No,” they said, voice again firm.

His hand flew back to his lap, and he allowed them to mark his place, close his notebook, and put it in his bag. There was an air of finality as they snapped the clasp closed and put it in his lap. They placed a to-go cup of coffee in front of him, and he saw on the faint imprint of a glossy lip on the rim. He recognized the tint.

“Do you need to wait for a ride?”

“No,” he said. “They are ready for me.”

“Good.” They nodded once. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m calmed down now,” he said. “Thank you very much for...stepping in.”

“Of course.” They sighed, and tugged at a stray curl that hung by their ear. “You weren’t kidding when you said that thing is tied to your emotions, huh.” Their eyes darted to the machinery implanted in his head. “That was pretty intense.”

He reached up to touch it, self-conscious for possibly the first time ever since it had been installed.

“I...no, I wasn’t.” He took another breath, unable to shake the jitteriness from his limbs. “I apologize for...that. It won’t happen again.”

Their smile got a bit thinner, but they nodded. “It’s no trouble. That’s hardly the wildest or most dangerous thing that’s ever happened to me.” They slowly reached out their hand, holding it palm up.

After a beat, he took it, and they squeezed his fingers gently. Their hands were very cold. He squeezed back, with a strange urge to try and warm them up.

“Get some rest, okay? Take a deep breath, drink some water, maybe work on something else for a little bit. When you come back to it, it’ll all click.”

Something about their tone had him nodding confidently. “I will. Thank you.”

They descended together. His ride was waiting for him in the street, and they bid farewell at the door. He clasped their forearm longer and harder than usual, hoping to convey his gratitude through the gesture alone.

They gave him a tired smile. “Get some rest, Siebren.”

“I will do my best.”

His driver said nothing as Siebren slid into the car. The doors locked the second he closed them.

He let out a breath, trying in vain to relax his shoulders. He looked towards his bag, but he couldn't bring himself to open it.

He rode in silent thought for several long moments.

Tension gripped the base of his spine, and his hands curled and uncurled tight fists on his thighs.

Siebren had been frustrated by his work before, of course. His was a frustrating field, with little breakthrough that didn’t come after  _ years _ of hard work. That had never stopped him from exploding every few months. He had had outbursts like this before too, when he got overwhelmed and lashed out. Usually he felt guilty, angry, embarrassed when it was over. And he did now, of course. But this time felt a bit different. His heart was still pounding, not from the adrenaline, and his chest was tight, but it wasn’t the harness or any feelings of shame. He wasn’t sure what to make of it.

He did what he always did these days when his thoughts were unfathomable. Even though he had literally just spoken to them four minutes prior, Siebren texted Cash.

**S: My sincerest apologies again. I could have put you in a great deal of danger, and I am sorry for that.**

They responded quickly, and with more grace than he felt he deserved.

**C: It’s fine! You’re having a bad day, and you already said that device thingy isn’t that powerful anyway.**

**C: No harm done.**

**C: You do need to get some rest, though.**

He chuckled. They really didn’t seem to mind his outburst at all...though that might have something to do with the fact that they really  _ didn’t _ understand the true nature of what he had done.

Cash knew about his ability to manipulate gravity, but not the source of it. Rather than explain everything (it seemed like the kind of thing governments didn’t want you to talk about), he had led them to believe that his monitoring equipment was in fact the source of his gravitational control, and that the thing implanted in him was the subject of his research. He wasn’t sure how they would react to the truth, but it wasn’t a door he wanted open anytime soon.

It did mean they gave him a tad more sympathy than he felt he necessarily deserved.

He sat upright, letting out a huff. He didn’t want to think about that right now.

**S: So you told me. Quite firmly, in fact**

**C: Oh yea sorry lol I hope that wasn’t too weird**

**S: You were quite commanding. I haven’n’t seen that side of you before.**

**S: You are normally quite soft spoken**

**C: Oh yea haha sometimes I can get a little bossy. I hope that didn’t upset you?**

**C: I don’t I didn’t overstep or smth**

**C: I just really didn’t want you to freak out or something! I know sometimes public places suck**

**S: Not at all. On the contrary, I think it was just what I needed.**

Just what he needed… He thought about it again, and it  _ had _ been what he needed. When he got like that, very little could snap him out of it before he just released all the stress on the environment around him. Very little except...

His heart began to pound again, and his breath came a little shorter. He squirmed a bit in his seat, scooching to slouch and ease the pressure on his lower back.

He wasn’t an idiot. He knew, partially, how this incident was affecting him. It wasn’t just the frustration, it was...it was also Cash. Their firm voice, the way they had looked at him, the way they had  _ commanded  _ him...he felt a strain in his pants that wasn’t unfamiliar.

Cash was attractive. He’d known that from the moment he’d seen them. That fact, however, hadn’t been relevant to him until now. They'd both made it clear this was platonic, and Cash had never been inappropriate. Any thoughts he'd had were dismissed, or had been until now. And he  _ had  _ had thoughts before, but had decided it would be best for both of them if they remained unknown. This wasn’t the first time they’d bubbled to the surface, but this was definitely the most intense.

And Cash had no way of knowing, of course...unless he told them.

Cash was a friend, but not someone he knew very well. A (less than) innocent thought could be taken as inappropriate and unprofessional as it was, and there went his distraction, the food, the conversation, the company. To them, this might have been just a moment when they stepped forward to deescalate an emotional situation, unaware of the physical effect it had had on him. If he said something to the contrary, and they took it the wrong way, this friendship would be over.

It could also be taken precisely the way he wanted it, of course, and it was possible they would respond exactly how he wanted.

**S: I’m sure there are other places it must come in handy.**

**C: ?**

**C: I mean at work I guess**

This was his last chance to bail out. He looked at the words he’d typed, and thought about it one more time. Worst case scenario was a ruined friendship, but that was hardly realistic. More likely they would simply tell him they didn’t want to talk about it, that they didn’t see him that way, and shut him down there.

**S: Intimate scenarios, perhaps?**

Cash began typing. They stopped typing. They began typing. They stopped typing. They began typing again, and then they stopped.

It was a good thing his ride back to the lab was so long. It took Cash nearly four minutes to respond. And when they did, he felt a weight lift off of him.

**C: It certainly does. At least if my partner’s into it**

The message was punctuated by a winking face, sent nearly twenty seconds after the text. Siebren’s breath quickened and he adjusted himself in his seat, letting himself lean back.

**S: But of course. That’s a given**

**C: Sure, but it neesd to be said smh**

**C: Some people really aren’t into it, you know?**

What else to say? He’d felt a flash of confidence in the moment, just enough to reach out, but now he was faltering. This wasn’t a conversation he knew how to have. He hoped they would somehow take the initiative, but even he knew that was foolish. They couldn’t read his mind.

**S: I must say that I don’t know**

**C: ?**

**S: People that aren’t into it**

**S: I can’t say I can relate**

Another two minutes of typing, and stopping, and typing, and stopping.

**C: Is that so**

Another winking face, followed by two large eyes.

**S: It is**

**S: It’s been some time, but it was always something I found enjoyable.**

**C: Being bossed around?**

**S: Being dominated**

**S: Being taken care of**

**S: Like you did today**

He had to stop for a moment to take a breath. Was he really having this conversation? Hadn’t he been in the cafe not even fifteen minutes ago, hovering off the ground with cutlery all around him? And now he was confessing his sexual desires to…

Well, to the one person who might share them.

It wasn’t even a minute before they responded again.

**C: What a coincidence**

**C: I’m into quite the opposite**

He hadn’t even fully prepared himself for the wave of disappointment when they followed up.

**C: I like to take care of my partners**

**C: Wiw I sound like such a fuckboy,**

**S: I disagree**

**C: Lol**

**C: But You’d be surprised what a firm voice and a little orgasm denial can do**

**S: I think it sounds very**

**S: That sounds perfectly fine to me**

He sighed deeply, reaching down to adjust himself. The conversation wasn’t doing much to calm him down, but at least it wasn’t riling him up any further. He wasn’t any  _ more _ breathless or uncomfortable than he’d been a few minutes ago, surely, and his pants weren’t any tighter.

**C: “Perfectly fine,” eh? ;)**

**C: Are you coming onto me, Kuiper?**

**S: I don’t appreciate that term, but I am making my interest known.**

**S: If you would like this conversation to end, I will stop at once.**

**S: It will never come up again.**

**S: You have my word.**

Barely a second went by before they replied.

**C: Now, now, big guy, don’t go jumping the gun**

**C: No need to bust out the chastity vows just yet lok**

**C: I’m into it**

**C: Or, I guess, into YOU would be a better way to put it**

He released a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. The weight that lifted off his shoulders was monumental. He looked up out the window. The countryside rolled by. The clouds stared down impassively, waiting for him to move his bones and say something.

He had plenty of time before he arrived at the lab. He could indulge this.

**S: Is that what you’d do?**

**C: ?**

**S: “A firm voice and orgasm denial”**

**S: Is that what you’d do?**

**C: To you?**

Was this where this conversation was going? Was this where  _ he _ was taking this conversation? He took a deep breath.

**S: To me**

**C: If you wanted me to. If that’s what you needed**

**C: What would you want me to do to you?**

The question shouldn’t have caught him off guard, but he still found his breath knocked away. For a moment all he could do was sit there and try and make sense of the vague  _ wants _ floating in his head. The first one that came to mind was simple enough, but typing it out was…a bit mortifying.

**S: I want you to undress me**

He paused for a moment. Was he going to unload yet more sexual fantasy onto Cash, when just half an hour ago he’d almost caused them harm over something (relatively) trivial?

Yes. Yes he was.

**C: Well that I could certainly do**

**C: With great enthusiasm**

**C: I bet you look amazing**

Blood rushed to his face and he groaned. He ran his hand over his face and looked up. 

He never worried about the driver of the car before. The large man had never looked at him for longer than a few minutes, or spoken to him besides to tell him to please get out of the car. There was a divider between them, and he was pretty sure there weren’t any cameras in here.

Still, he felt a little pang of excitement course through him as his hand drifted down and he began to rub himself slowly through his pants.

**S: There’s no need to flatter me**

**S: I’m a physicist who spends a great deal of time floating**

**S: Not the best lifestyle for maintaining physique**

**C: Siebren.**

Just the sight of his name, alone and curt, had him straighten up as rigidly as if they’d spoken it aloud.

**C: I'm sure you look amazing.**

**C: Yes?**

He took a deep breath. It had been a long time, and even this was getting him excited. He knew what they wanted. He wanted it to, but he also had a selfish desire to push back, to make them push him even harder.

Plenty of time for that later.

**S: If you say so.**

**C: Hm. Good enough for now**

**C: We’ll get there ;)**

**C: If you were in front of me, naked in all your glory...m**

**C: You may have noticed this about me already, but I’m a touchy person. Not sure id be able to keep my hands off you**

**S: Don’t. I want to be touched**

He did. The thought of hands moving over him, pinching, stroking,  _ touching _ , was enough to steal his breath. He didn’t dare do anything like that in the back of a car, no matter how private it seemed to be. Rubbing himself through his pants was exhilarating enough.

He let out a shaky breath, visualizing what it would feel like, what it would  _ look _ like, to be stripped bare before them. They weren’t tall, and even if he was kneeling they wouldn’t have much of an advantage on him, but he thought about the way they  _ stood _ today. Shoulders straight, chin up, hands half-clenched. They would tower over him despite their stature.

**C: I bet you look cute when you’re flustered. I’d love to tease you**

**C: Run my hands over your shoulders and kiss your chest**

**C: Touch everywhere but your cock until you want to beg for it**

“Please…” he found himself murmuring aloud, running his own large hands over his thighs. He knew what it felt like when they gripped his forearms, when they squeezed his fingers. Their hands were cold, and strong. Imagining them on his skin was torturous.

He belatedly remembered he was supposed to also be participating in this as well.

**S: Pleasse**

Barely a reply, but at least they knew he was still there.

**C: Your hair is too short to pull :( I’ll have to make due**

**C: I might even touch myself before I touch your cock**

**C: Or let you touch me, if you’re good**

He felt his breath leave him. He bit down on his bottom lip and grinded up into his own palm.

**S: I’d be good** , he promised.

The next message was a picture. He knew what it would be when he saw it come through, but he still felt arousal slam into him when he opened it.

It was Cash, lying back on a couch. They were touching themselves, shirt half-unbuttoned and pants gone. One dark hand disappeared into the band of their underwear, which they’d kept just high enough to tease him. They had tattoos, barely visible through their open button-up. What looked like stars and...birds, maybe? He couldn’t see their face, and that added to the fantasy. What did they look like naked? What did they  _ sound _ like, touching themself and thinking of  _ him _ ? Did they gasp his name?

**S: Breathtaking**

**S: Canot return the favor, unfortunately**

**S: Still in the car**

**C: That’s alright. More surprises for me ;)**

He let out a short huffing laugh. He couldn’t help himself any longer, not when he could see them.

He unzipped his pants quickly, moving them down just enough to free his cock. There was no grace to his movements. He laid his head back, let his phone fall to the seat beside him, and let himself go. He tried to think back to the cafe, the way they’d looked at him and  _ commanded _ him to behave. He was gasping for air, feverishly chasing that feeling. The rushed pressure of his shaking hand wasn’t ideal, but it was enough.

He stopped himself before he could make a mess. He sat panting for a few moments, senses heightened and mind fuzzy, before he picked up his phone again.

**S: I haven't dine that in a long time**

**C: Done what ;)**

**S: Touched myself**

**S: As delightful as it was**

**S: I can’t help wonder how it would be if we did**

He let his phone fall again, leaving the sentence unfinished. They could figure it out. He took a steadying breath, and shoved his dick back in his pants. He left his fly open as he looked for his sandals and read Cash’s messages.

**C: I mean**

**C: We can if you want to**

**S: I do. Very much I do.**

Perhaps too hasty of a reply, but they didn’t seem to care. They typed, then stopped, then typed again, and stopped. He took the initiative, giving in to his own selfish desires.

**S: Perhaps after our next lunch date, we can go home together**

**C: Perhaps ;)**

Was that too soon? They had only just discovered this mutual attraction, and he had already proposed a date  _ very _ soon for them to act on it. Was that too forward?

**C: Your place or mine?**

He let out a sigh.

**S: I imagine your apartment is probably a much more suitable location than mine. Closer, for one.**

**C: We can do my place. I’ll clean it up for you. Chase the cats away for a while.**

**S: I would like to see the cats, a tually.**

**C: We can arrange that too**

A single heart emoji followed, which after a few seconds he returned.

**C: You’ve got work, right?**

**S: Yes.**

**C: I’ll leave you to it**

**C: I’ll see you next week then?**

**S: I’ll see you next week**

**C: Siebren?**

**S: Yes?**

**C: Get some rest. And please, work on something else tonight.**

**S: I will.**

He let out another deep breath. He already felt more relaxed than he had in weeks, his frustration and anxiety momentarily forgotten.

As he sat there, basking, he realized the car had been sitting in the garage for several minutes. He huffed at his own obliviousness. He hadn’t lost track of time, precisely. In fact, quite the opposite, he’d almost been counting the seconds between replies. But it felt like the whole world had ceased to exist outside of the car, outside of the scenario in his head and the person at the other end of the phone.

He read their message again and again.  _ See you next week. _ The same thing they said to him every week, but this time...the promise of more. His stomach churned with excitement, and for once the tune he hummed was utter nonsense.

He went over himself twice, ensuring his pants were zipped and there were no stains, and he looked presentable as he stepped out of the car. The driver gave him a long stare, but said nothing. As they walked towards the elevators that led to the lobby, Siebren felt giddy.

He barely paid any attention to his visit with Dr. Frank, offering noncommittal answers about his elevated heart rate before retreating immediately to his lab. He almost crossed the room straight to his blackboard and that damned machine, but he remembered what Cash had said.

_ Work on something else. _

The board was taunting him. His own frenzied handwriting, barely recognizable now, spread across the smudged white surface. It was barely legible, and he could see the precise moment he’d become unsure of himself. He wanted so badly to cross the room and put everything to right. He knew he could.

_ Work on something else _ , Cash had told him.

So he did. He turned away from that equation, and picked up something else. Something tangentially related, but something with no frustration attached. A bit giddy, he even sent Cash a picture of his work, captioned,  **See? Something else!** The heart emoji he got in return had his head spinning.

The work went quickly that night. If anyone noticed his improved mood, no one said anything. He still took his notebooks to his room and spent several hours working after hours. It didn’t feel like as much of a weight. His thoughts were clearer. It was as if the world was open to him again.

When he fell into bed that night, it was without the usual cloud of frustration that had plagued him the past week. His heart was still pounding, his gut was still churning. He thought about Cash, and their meeting next week.

He turned on the fan, hoping to drown out the faint music that played constantly.

He pulled out his phone and scrolled back up through the conversation. He’d gotten some relief in the car, but it had built up in him again as he’d worked.

As he reread Cash describing what they’d do to him, he felt his blood begin to rush. He was almost frantically hasty in his movements to free himself from his trousers. He took himself in hand gently, the way he imagined they would, working himself up. He only had one hand, needing the other to hold his phone, but he could almost  _ feel _ their hand on the rest of his body. He could almost hear their voice, melodic in his ears, telling him to hold on, to breathe deeper and relax, to let them take care of him.

“ _ Please _ …” His whisper went unheard into the air. He read again what they’d said, and thought of everything he’d say to them. He let his imagination run wild, supplying half-formed fantasies and desires for his body to respond to. He kept the same slow strokes on his cock, pausing to thumb at the precum dripping down. He stopped himself three times on the edge, with nowhere near the grace a partner might. He let it build until he was ready to beg the open air for release.

Eventually he had to put the phone down. His arm came up to cover his eyes and he laid on his back, legs spread. He imagined Cash above him, pressing those soft lips to his throat, to his chest, to his belly. Whispering how good he was doing, what his reward would be if he held out just a little bit longer.

He couldn’t stand it for long. Eventually he couldn’t keep up the slow teasing, and began to pump himself hard and fast. He imagined them rocking on his cock, moaning for him, fingers trailing over his chest. What did they  _ sound _ like? He tried in vain to imagine it, but it was drowned out by the ever-present melody in his head. The memory of their voice was fading, but the memory of what it had done to him definitely wasn’t.

He turned his head and looked at his phone, propped up on his bedside table. He saw the picture, their hand and their bared skin and--

When he came, it was sudden and explosive. His moans felt like they were echoing across the room, amplified as they bounced around his skull. Cash’s name spilled from his mouth several times, whispered into the air. He kept pumping until he couldn’t stand it anymore, wanting them to milk him of every drop. When he began to soften to the point of inconvenience, his hand fell flat on his hip, shaky and weak.

He turned his head and saw a new message from Cash. He reached his clean hand over to grab his phone, eager to reply.

**C: How’re you doing? Feeling better?**

**S: Would you like to see?**

**S: I’m in a much more suitable state to be seen now**

**C: Oh**

**C: Yes I would**

The image he sent was hardly flattering: it was shaky and blurry, a shot of his softening cock and the cum spilled on his belly and hand. Their reaction, however, seemed genuinely appreciative.

**C: Gorgeous**

**C: All that for me?**

**S: All fr you**

**C: I’m flattered**

**C: Wish I were there to clean you up**

The number of heart and tongue emojis they sent following that message were positively obscene. He groaned, and chastised them, but he was smiling.

**S: Utterly filthy**

**C: ;)**

They were still insistent that he rest. He bid them goodnight, and he fell to a restful sleep with his phone still in hand.

The next six days passed in a bit of a blur. Work was work, of course, and minor setbacks added to his mounting frustration. He couldn’t put off this problematic equation forever, and on the third day returned to it. He felt like he was making headway, but it was slow going. He knew his employers would be returning soon for another demonstration of his progress, and he felt like he had very little to show for it.

It didn’t help that every day the music seemed louder, but no one else could hear it. He searched the lab for a hidden speaker, or a radio someone had forgotten to turn off, but he found nothing.

Cash’s texts throughout the week, however, kept him floating just above the water. Not all of their conversations were so sexually charged. Most of them, in fact, were delightfully normal. He bitched about work, they bitched about work. They sent him pictures of their cats, he used emojis in a slightly outdated fashion. It was comfortable. Even the nudes they exchanged at night didn’t feel like something unfamiliar or dangerous. It fit so perfectly into the routine they’d already set, as if this had always been where they’d planned to be.

The date arrived. He spent an absurd amount of time getting ready. He didn’t really have any... _ date _ clothes anymore. He’d lost track of most of his belongings after the accident and there hadn’t been a reason to invest in those things after he’d been released. A button-up shirt with snaps instead of buttons was probably the sexiest thing he owned, and that really only counted if you were into the “repressed professor” look. Which, hopefully, Cash was very into.

They were waiting for him when he arrived at the cafe. He saw them from the street, waving at him from the balcony. They had dressed up only slightly, he noted with some relief, in clothes a bit more tight-fitting than anything they’d worn before. When he came up to sit, he saw a new gloss on their lips, blue-tinted now.

“It’s finally sunny!” They beamed at him from beneath the wide brim of their hat. “We can sit outside!”

“Quite an auspicious sign.” He followed them to their preferred table. Their coat was slung over the back of their seat, half fallen to the floor. He felt a little thrill, wondering if they had been eager to greet them.

“I haven’t ordered yet,” they told him as they sat. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted to try the same combo as last time, or something new.”

“Let’s try this one more time.”

He ordered the same thing he had the week before. This time, his notebook stayed in his bag.

The afternoon passed like it always did. He expected there to be some awkwardness, but there wasn’t. There was anticipation and excitement, a thrill that ran up his spine every time their hands touched (which was far more often than he’d ever realized.) The first time they passed his water back to him, lip gloss painting the top of the straw, they winked at him. He blushed like a teenager and mumbled into his hand, but took a sip.

The meal was good, and Cash only ate half of what he’d ordered.

They stayed long after they’d finished their food, talking like they always did. Finally, though, it came to an end. Cash looked at their phone.

“Oh, shit, we’ve been here for more than an hour.” Their laughter was infectious, or perhaps he was just feeling a bit giddy. “I’ll be right back.”

They paid while he waited, anxiously tapping his pen. When they returned, they grinned at him one more time.

“This way!” They led him down the street. “Unless you want to take your private ride, we can just take my car.”

“That’s fine with me.”

Siebren texted his driver, informing him that the pickup would be somewhere else, far later than normal. Possibly tomorrow, he warned him with a thrill.

He declined a coffee to go.

Cash's car was surprisingly large. The passenger seat slid back far enough that he could sit comfortably, and it was tall enough that he could sit up straight. Hanging from the front mirror were two charms in the shapes of constellations, a crab and a dolphin.

“You’re really lean into the similarities between space and the ocean, don’t you?” he asked with some amusement, reaching up to examine them. They were well worn, faded from sun and smudged with fingerprints.

They winked at him. “I really do.”

It was a short drive to their apartment, and despite his growing nerves, they were able to make small talk on the way. They warned him that their cats were a bit skittish, and not to take it personally if they wouldn’t let him pet them.

“They’re rescues,” they explained a bit sadly. “It took them a while to warm up to  _ me _ , and I gave them nothing but wet food for six months.”

"I may take it personally anyway, but thank you for the warning."

His employers didn't allow pets in the building, and he lived vicariously through Cash's three feline friends.

They arrived with no fanfare, pulling into a small building. It was several stories high, and many windows featured boxed plants that overflowed. A few of them were open, and he could hear laughter and television and radio. It was livelier than anywhere he’d been in months.

“Here we are!”

He opened the door for himself and slid out of the car. He took a moment to stretch and breathe in the air, warm and comfortable.

“I’m on the ground floor,” they said, leading him to the door. It was decorated with a wreath made of blue plastic flowers and lumps that he suspected were supposed to be cats. “Watch the doormat, people always trip on it for some reason.”

He responded by lifting himself an inch into the air. Their laugh was a ray of light in a dark room. They rolled their eyes as they unlocked the door.

“Smartass.”

As he moved through the door into their living room, he realized this was going to happen. His heart began to pound and he hummed absently to himself. He put his bag on the couch, and gratefully accepted Cash’s offer of something to drink.

“The bathroom is down the hall to the right. Bedroom is at the end of the hall. Kitchen is...literally right there.”

Their apartment was far more comfortable than his quarters. There were so many pillows and blankets thrown haphazardly over the backs of chairs. Posters and photographs were hung high on the walls, where cats couldn’t reach them. Several cat toys were strewn about, obviously well-loved. He sat carefully on the couch, feeling a bit out of place. Everything was designed for someone significantly shorter than him.

A pair of wide green eyes regarded him from an upended cardboard box. A more innocent form of excitement bloomed in him, and he scooted closer to the edge of the couch.

"Hello, little one." 

Despite Cash's warnings, he still held out his hand, wiggling his fingers in hopes the cat would be enticed. He was rewarded for his troubles by the sight of a large grey head, crooked whiskers, and a wiggling pink nose.

Cash returned with a small cup that they placed in front of him. They plopped down on the opposite end of the couch. They followed his gaze to the cat, who was standing frozen just barely outside of her box.

"That's Towtruck. She might be the most friendly of the bunch," they said. "Her brother might come out too, if she comes first."

"Does he have an equally unique name?" He took a sip of his water, grateful to have something to do with his hands, since petting cats was apparently not an option yet.

They grinned. "Bacon Grease."

He hummed. “I had a cat, a while ago. I miss her. My current place doesn’t allow pets, unfortunately.”

“That’s too bad. Well, you’re welcome to my babies, once they warm up to you.” They said it so kindly and so honestly, as if this  _ wasn’t  _ the most intimate he’d ever been with someone in years.

“Thank you,” he said, and he meant it.

“How’re you feeling?” they asked, in that same genuine tone. They actually wanted to know, not just because they were planning on having sex with him.

"I'm feeling good," he answered honestly. "It's been a good day today."

They leaned back. "That's good! By the way, if you don't want to, just let me know. We can chill. I have movies. And cats."

“Thank you.”

He appreciated the out. They had provided him with several in the weeks leading up to this. He’d almost wondered if they were hinting at him that  _ they _ didn’t want this, until they revealed they’d had several coercive partners in the past, and were probably overcompensating to avoid being the same.

They talked some more, and he kept half an eye on Towtruck. As time went on, she slunk out of her box more and more until she was stretched out on the carpet, watching him with narrow eyes. She kneaded the open air, but her body language made it clear she would  _ not _ let him move any closer.

Finally, Cash stood up. “I gotta pee. You done with your water?”

“Yes, thank you.” He hadn’t finished it, but he wasn’t particularly thirsty right now.

“No problem. I’ll put it up, or Truck will put her dirty little paws in it.” They took the cup from his hand and he felt a shock go through him as their fingers brushed his. They met his gaze, and smiled softly. “I’ll be right back.”

There was a promise in that sentence, and it had him breathless.

He’d warned them already what was absolutely off the table, and they’d agreed so readily that he hadn’t been sure what to do with himself.

_ Don’t restrain me _ , he told them.  _ Not with anything physical. Not even with your hands, or with your body. I need to be able to move freely. _

Despite the flavor of their sexual conversation, they hadn’t questioned that. Restraint was almost par for the course, he’d learned, with the kind of domination he preferred, but he had told them firmly it was not going to happen. And Cash had agreed without question, without hesitation. They didn’t poke him for why, or beg him to let up a little bit, or even suggest any alternative. They’d just agreed.

It was that easy acceptance that put him at ease, he thought as he watched them return from the kitchen. No demands he made had ever put them off, or made them resent him even slightly. They were so relaxed and confident, as if nothing in the world was capable of shaking them. Not even a mentally fractured, telekinetic lover with too much trauma to ever put into words.

This wasn’t the time to think about that now, though. He rubbed his shaking palms over his thighs, equal parts nervous and excited.

Cash sat close enough to practically be in his lap. They reached out and cradled his face, running their thumbs over his cheeks. Immediately he felt his mind calm. They looked into his eyes for a moment, and he got lost in theirs.

“Are you alright?” they asked. “You look so serious.”

“I’m just thinking,” he admitted softly, “about you.” His cheeks warmed beneath their thumbs, and he sighed.

They hummed, and waited a second more. He had nothing more to say. At his silence, they leaned in slightly, and finally,  _ finally _ , they kissed him.

It was easy. It was so easy. Cash didn’t push at him, didn’t rush him, didn’t paw at him with inconsiderate abandon. Despite being so much smaller than him, so much younger than him, they easily took control of him with just one hand on his thigh and the other resting between his shoulder and his throat.

Their lips fit against his as though they had been made for each other, atom for atom.

They kissed him deeply and slowly, and every time they paused to breathe he licked his lips, chasing the taste of their lip balm. It was blueberry. He began to push back sooner and sooner, far more desperate for the feeling of their lips on his than he was for air.

As they kissed him, their hand slid from his shoulder to his chest, undoing the buttons of his shirt one by one. They did it with such ease, he was glad to have worn a shirt with snaps. As soon as his skin was bared, they were touching him. The first touch of their cold fingers made him jump, but he leaned into it. They went slow at first, trailing soft fingers over his ribs and stomach to coax out gooseflesh on his skin.

He sighed into their mouth and into their touch. They scraped their nails gently against his ribs, pulling out an embarrassing moan. He leaned closer, hoping they would touch him more and pull him closer and kiss him harder.

They did. They leaned back, pulling him in with a hand hard on his back. Their teeth pulled at his bottom lip as they pulled their nails across his hip. Their other hand stayed stationary on his leg, keeping him grounded.

They leaned back until he was crawling over them. Their knee slid up between his legs, and he found himself almost immediately rubbing against it. He let out an embarrassing moan when they pushed back, giving him much desired friction.

They laughed into the kiss, digging their nails into his hip. They swallowed his strangled moan and whispered, "Eager?" into the corner of his mouth.

He couldn’t respond, not trusting himself not to say something stupid. Instead he just nodded. The hand on their hip began to pull him in rhythm, pushing him into their knee. Their mouth returned to his skin, this time planting open-mouthed kisses to his collar. His breath stuttered. It had been so long he’d felt anything besides his own hands.

They pulled away, and he surprised himself with a strangled whine as they did so. They relented with one more chaste kiss to his top lip, and then asked,

“Would you like to go to the room now?”

He was panting, blushing, hungry for more. He  _ wanted _ so badly to go wherever they told him, to do whatever they told him to do.

But...thoughts of their last exchange lingered on his mind. How many times had he thought about them in the days leading up to this? How often had he fantasized about this? All of that had been perfectly fine in text, and in his mind, but in practice? It had been a while since he had been with anyone.

Cash seemed to read his mind, or his face. Both hands returned to his face, cradling him gently. “Remember what I said.” They leaned in and rested their forehead against his. Their eyes slid closed, but he stared at their face. They were panting too, but their face was composed. “If you  _ ever _ feel uncomfortable, if you ever get overwhelmed, overstimulated, if I do  _ anything _ you don’t like, we stop what we’re doing. No hard feelings, no nothing.”

He took a deep breath. “I remember,” he said. “Perhaps...a little longer? I’m…” He didn’t know what he was. It wasn’t nervous, it wasn’t regretful. He just wanted to stay here, for a few more minutes.

They pulled away and gave him a slight smile. “Sure. Sex is weird, man, I get it.” They reached down and took his hand in theirs. He squeezed gratefully at them, and finally let his eyes close.

He leaned forward until they let their forehead rest on his again. “Thank you.”

They tugged him gently. He moved closer at their urging, and let him lean into their kiss.

They were patient, waiting for him to give a clear indication that he was comfortable before pushing on. They kept his hand in theirs, thumb idly stroking his thumb, while the other slowly came up to rest on his collar. He placed one hand on their stomach that slid around their back to pull them into him.

He took control of the pace for just a moment, pulling away from their mouth to kiss their cheek, their chin, their brow, their ear. They sighed shakily in his ear as he scooted down and kissed at their throat. There was little confidence behind his movements, but they took what he gave.

After a few moments, Cash pulled away and sat up, still holding his hand. They tugged him into a sitting position.

“To the bedroom?” they suggested, and he nodded.

“Please.”

They stood, giving him one last kiss.

He followed them almost meekly. He felt like he was floating (figuratively, of course...he  _ was _ literally floating) behind them, tethered by their fingers wrapped around his.

Crossing the threshold of their bedroom was a slap back to reality and he felt himself take a shaky breath. Cash gave him a brief concerned look, which he responded to with a nervous smile and a kiss to the back of their hand.

“Just one second, let me make sure the cats are good.”

They pulled away, and he heard them calling out and shaking a bowl of food. A silver blur streaked past his foot out the bedroom door. That one was...Pillow Fight, if he remembered correctly.

He crossed the room and sat on the bed, not sure what else to do. He briefly considered stripping...but the thought of them undressing him was too enticing.

Their room was dimly lit and spacious, and obviously lived in. Cash obviously valued their comfort. More pillows were scattered on the floor. The bed was extremely soft, and there was also a large dark towel spread out over the comforter.

The lights were dim, and they had a white noise machine on their bedside table. Either he had told them about his need for one, or they were perfect for him.

They returned quickly with a grin and a wink.

"Thanks for your patience."

"Of course." He reached out his hands and spread his legs, needy.

As soon as the door was closed (not all the way, they left it slightly ajar for the cats) they were on him, kissing him again. They stood between his spread legs and pressed the length of their body to his bare chest. He was tall enough that they were able to easily kiss him in this position. His legs squeezed into their hips, keeping them close.

They made short work of his shirt, slipping it off his shoulders and letting it fall to the floor below. He didn’t have time to feel the chill of the room. Immediately their hands were on him, traveling the planes of his exposed shoulders with bold curiosity. A few times he felt their short nails scrape against a rib or a shoulder blade and his entire body shuddered. They were plucking at the strings that kept his bones together, undoing him with every touch.

Cash raised a hand and placed it on the back of his neck, gently arranging their fingers over the top of his implant. They didn’t hold him down, but the pressure, and the occasional scrape of their nail through his short hair, had his heart pounding. Their other hand explored his chest. There was an affectionate reverence to their touch, a gentle push halfway between a caress and an erotic massage. It coaxed sounds from him that he was almost embarrassed by.

They pressed their weight fully on him, and he groaned loudly as their hips pressed against his dick. They stood still but he began to move, almost without realizing it, thrusting himself against their hip in search of more.

It had been so long. He couldn’t help shivering under their touch, face flushing as he realized he was already panting. He chuckled a bit into their mouth.

“Hm? What’s up?” They stopped kissing him to let him speak, instead pressing their open mouth against his collarbone. They hummed against his skin, and he felt it in his bones. Their teeth and tongue marked a hot trail across the top of his chest, flustering him almost to the point that he couldn’t answer.

“I, ah...haven’t done this in a while,” he admitted, which they already knew. “It’s...a bit silly that I’m already so, mm...worked up.”

“I don’t think so.” They gently bit down on his shoulder, humming at his moan. “I think it’s wonderful.”

He wasn’t sure what to say to that, so he didn’t say anything. “Can I…?” He lifted his hands questioningly.

Cash pulled away and looked at him for a moment. They tapped their chin in dramatic thought, then nodded.

His pulse quickened.

They were only wearing a tank top now. He didn’t remove it, but slid his hand underneath. Their body was warmer than their hands. It felt so natural and familiar to hold them, to press his fingers into their hips and pull them closer. They had scars, faint and irrelevant now, that he traced obsessively. They sighed as he explored, trying to find spots that made them moan.

They continued to slowly strip him down. His undershirt was the next thing to go, laid out on the bed beside him. They sucked at his throat while they undid his belt, undoing his fly and letting their hand dip below his waist for just a second. One squeeze had him moaning into the open air. The angle was too awkward for them to properly stroke him, but the teasing touches they gave him kept him breathless.

They leaned back and watched him slide out of his pants, removing his underwear in the same motion. Their eyes were lidded as they looked him over, slow and heavy, tongue poking out to prod their bottom lip. A light feeling spread through him, the realization that they were looking at him with such obvious desire. He felt the blush that extended halfway down his body grow hotter until he thought he was going to explore.

“You look every bit as good as I imagined,” they said, and stepped in between his legs again. This time their hands rested on his thighs, stroking up the tender flesh. They ghosted their fingertips over his hips and stomach, pushing him back so he was resting on his elbows. 

He flushed up at them. "You flatter me."

"I sure do."

He was not proud of his body. He had been building his muscle mass back, attending physical therapy and utilizing the workout center at the lab, but years in confinement hadn’t done him any favors and he still had a lot of catching up to.

Cash didn’t seem to care. They immediately moved up to straddle him. It almost killed him, to have their weight right where he wanted it, but not heavy enough for him to feel any relief. His heart jumped as they leaned in to resume their attention. They didn’t kiss his mouth again, instead pressing light, quick kisses to his chest. They pulled a startled moan from him as their tongue began to circle his nipple, the only warning before they bit down gently.

Their hands were purposeful now as they ran down his sides, dragging their nails down and gripping his thighs. They kissed up to his jaw and then back down to his hips, leaving a few easily hidden hickeys as they went. They moved so that no matter how frantically he thrusted, he couldn’t move against them.

They fulfilled their promise as they kissed and stroked every bit of him they could reach...save for one.

His growing cock stood ignored between them. He almost couldn’t focus on it, with how thoroughly attentive Cash was being to the rest of his body. There was no performative edge to what they were doing. Every time they looked up at him, eyes blown wide and warm with affection, he felt...wanted. He reached for them, and they immediately stopped.

“I’m sor--”

He broke off at the expression on their face. Teasing, wanting, adoring. They shook their head slightly, eyes roaming over him for a moment.

“No need to apologize.”

He gasped as they dragged a fingernail lightly up his chest. Chills shook his body.

“Let me take care of you,” they said, and it was not a question. “Put your hands above your head.”

For a brief panicked second, he thought they were going to tie him up, but he found himself obeying nonetheless. He trusted them. For a second they just sat like that, still. His heart began to pound, but they made no motion to touch him.

“Is that alright?”

“I…” Confusion stole his voice for a moment, but he blinked it away. “Yes.”

“Good.” Their tone suddenly took a harder tone as they ordered him, “Keep them there.”

Understanding dawned on him, but they were waiting for his response. “Yes.”

“Don’t touch yourself, and don’t touch me. Yes?”

His heart was pounding in his throat. “Yes.”

They hummed, and scratched lightly up his thigh. His leg twitched, but he made sure his hands didn’t move.

“Very good.”

He let out a heavy breath, unprepared for how heavily the simple praise would hit him. His cock twitched and his stomach flipped.

_ It really has been so long. _

"Stay there. Don't move."

"Yes." He breathed in deep through his nose, not looking as they moved away. He stared at their ceiling for a few seconds. They had stars stuck to the ceiling, the glow-in-the-dark ones they sold for children. He heard a drawer opening, several  _ enticing _ sounds, and soft footsteps coming back. Somewhere in another room, piano music played.

They returned with a kiss to his knee as they crawled over him. He turned his head and saw what they’d brought. They looked with him, face inches from his.

“Is that alright?” There was no uncertainty in their voice, just a point blank question. 

“That’s more than alright.” Excitement made his voice tremble slightly, and he didn’t care.

They slowly resumed what they were doing, hands and mouth tracing almost every inch of him. One of their hands kneaded his ass while the other dragged their fingernails down his sides and his legs. The next time they traveled down between his legs, they looked him in the eyes, letting his dick rest against their lips for a long moment.

“Please…” he breathed, feeling himself twitch against them.

They grinned and pressed a featherlight kiss against his tip, and then moved away.

He forgot himself for a moment and moved his hands. He reached for them, desperate. They immediately stood up, face stern.

“What are you doing?”

He froze, heart skipping a beat at the familiar tone.

“I…” His excuse died in his throat.

“Put your hands up,” they said, and it wasn’t a request.

He did so, as quickly as he could.

“Yes...sorry…” His words were breathless, flustered. He was blushing, wanting nothing more than to run a hand over his face or fidget with the sheets at his sides. But he would be good. He kept his fingers entwined above his head.

He groaned into the air, but they had no sympathy. They bit down on his hip, sucking one more hickey into him and let his frustration mount.

He hadn’t realized how much being able to touch them had kept him distracted from his own body. Everything was heightened, and he felt  _ exposed _ . Knowing it was fruitless, he still tried to chase what warmth and friction he thought he could steal. They were so careful, making sure his dick remained untouched no matter how he writhed.

They took one of his nipples in their mouth, teeth and tongue pulling sounds from him he hadn’t realized he was capable of making. Their hands were firm on his hips. They weren’t holding him down, or pulling him up. They were simply  _ there _ , thumbs stroking over the sensitive areas where his legs met his body.

It was so hard to keep his hands up. Even if he didn’t touch them, he still wanted to  _ grab _ them, to pull them closer, to pull them up to kiss him. Every time his hands twitched, they stopped, sitting up to look at him until he was back in position. They didn’t even have to  _ say _ anything, besides the murmured, warm, “Good boy,” when he obeyed. 

He wasn’t prepared for how  _ bare _ he felt, arms raised and legs wide for them. He felt almost  _ small _ as they straddled him, patient.

“You can do this,” they told him after his second slip-up. They sounded so  _ sure _ . Their tone wasn’t warm, just... _ confident _ . When he agreed, they licked a stripe up the underside of his cock, humming in approval.

He let out a strangled cry, desperate for more stimulation, knowing he would be denied. He couldn’t help his hips lifting slightly, chasing their mouth even though he knew they would give him nothing.

When he stayed still despite his desire, they smiled. “Good.”

Their chest and hips moved against his dick, not nearly enough heat or pressure or stimulation for him to get what he so desperately wanted. If he bucked up into them, they would stop. They were teasing him and they knew it, winding him up until he could barely stand it. 

They had to stop several more times. Every time he obeyed, they gave him something, a stroke or a kiss to his cock. The longer he went without moving, the more they gave him. Once he got to fuck into their palm for a few agonizing seconds. And every time he proved he could sit still, they would resume their attention. It felt like it went on for hours, and every minute he fell into it more. Everything fell away except the maddeningly slow pace they kept on him.

He nearly lost his composure when they bit into his thigh, hard enough to bruise. His startled yelp was shocking even to him, but their steady hand on his knee kept him from accidentally kicking them.

They looked at him with amusement, keeping steady eye contact as they sucked a bruise into his inner thigh. When it became clear he wasn’t going to kick them, they removed their hand from his leg and stroked slowly down their own torso. He swallowed heavily as he realized what they were doing. They moaned loudly into his thigh as they began to touch themself. Their hips bucked slowly, teasingly brushing against his balls and the underside of his cock, nowhere near close to giving him what he wanted.

He twisted his fingers into the sheets above his head, and let his head fall back. He couldn’t watch. The sight of them sitting between his legs, lips pressed to his skin and hand working themself up with his straining cock resting neglected against their hip, was maddening.

“Look at me, Siebren.”

His eyes flew open and he obeyed. They stood up on their knees, and he could see they’d pushed their underwear down to give him a full view of their fingers rubbing and pushing at their clit. He was mesmerized. It was bigger than he’d anticipated. They stopped to pour some lube on their fingers, and in the brief pause, they asked, “You still good?”

He nodded eagerly and then, as they were looking away, sighed, “Yes...yes, so good.”

They winked as they turned back and immediately went back to it. They rested a free hand on his knee, bracing their weight on him and rocking into their wet palm. They kept a steadying hand on his knee, thumb stroking him out of sync with the rhythm they kept on themself.

Every now and then they would lean down, using their free hand and their mouth to work him up even further than he already was. They bit into his thigh, licked the softest parts of his belly, and sucked more hickies across his hips. He was good, he was so good, he kept his hands above his head, but he couldn’t help bucking up at them, taking what little stimulation he could get.

A small garden of bruises and hickeys blossomed across his chest and stomach as they had their maddening way with him. They held steady eye contact (or perhaps nose contact), and he didn’t dare look away. Their breathless moans drowned out every other thought in his head, except for one.

Through the growing fog of mindless arousal, he remembered what they’d said. They would keep this up until he begged.

“Please…” It came out a croak, hoarse and breathless.

“What was that?” Their voice was so  _ steady _ . As breathless as they were, they still sounded so calm.

“ _ Please _ ,” he repeated, louder. His white knuckled grip on the sheets above his head was starting to hurt, but it was all he could to keep from disobeying their order.

“Please what?”

“Please, I need more, I need  _ something _ .” When that didn’t move them, he pleaded, “I need you, please, I need…” He couldn’t put into words what he needed, but he needed  _ more _ . He felt like a string pulled taut, ready to snap. Just when he thought he couldn’t take any more, they pulled him further.

They gave him a smile, and mercifully didn’t make him finish the sentence. “Oh, Siebren, darling, why didn’t you just tell me?”

He could only pant at them, hoping this was the moment his torment ended.

It was, and it wasn’t.

They touched his cock, finally. They took their hand, wet with lube and their own arousal, and stroked him slowly. He almost sobbed, arms screaming in agony from how hard he gripped the sheets. His head fell back, eyes screwed close as he finally, finally, got some relief.

“Please...please...please…” He was getting desperate so quickly, he was getting so close so quickly, he could feel the wave crashing and--

And they stopped.

He let out a long moaning sigh as they let go of him. The final stroke was slow and deliberate. They slid off of the bed, legs steady despite how long they’d been chasing their own pleasure. They stood at the table and he watched as they retrieved lube, a condom, a glove...and one of the most vibrantly colored strap-ons he’d ever seen.

“You can rest your arms now.” The way they said it, it wasn’t an afterthought. They were thinking of him, of his comfort.

He gratefully lowered his arms, rolling his shoulders and wrists. He didn’t try too hard to banish the ache. It felt good, another layer of the stimulation. His joints popped and his muscles ached, and he felt himself come down slightly from the headspace he had been floating into.

He watched through lidded eyes as they put on the strap-on. He moaned slightly when he saw the back of it, a delightfully shaped protrusion that slid against them easily. Seeing him staring, they tugged it a few times, sticking their tongue out.

“Like what you see?”

Every time they thrusted, the toy moved against them as well, and from the look on their face, it was shaped perfectly. Arousal and lube glistened on their thighs and their fingers.

“Very much so.” He was breathless, eager.

They returned to him, settling between his legs. They’d agreed to this ahead of time, but he still felt his breath leave him as they spread him. They pushed his thighs up until his ass was exposed, and waited until his hands were again above his head. He felt his blush across his entire body. His hands above his head and his knees in the air, he’d never felt more exposed. And still they looked at him with such soft, affectionate  _ desire _ , as if he was the most perfect being in the world. As if he was  _ whole _ and unblemished.

“Are you ready?”

“Yes.” He was more than ready, and they knew it. His desire was bigger than his body, bigger than physical.

The first finger was a shock, but it was easy enough. Their fingers were smaller than his, and he’d already done some prep on his own time. They kept a maddeningly slow pace, but thankfully they added a second finger when they realized he could handle it. They slid in and out of him as if they had all the time in the world, as if he wasn’t coming apart at the seams with need.

“Tell me how it feels.” What could have been a gentle sigh, or a playfully rhetorical question came out of their mouth was another order.

Heart in his throat, he said, “It’s good. It’s  _ good _ , but I need  _ more _ , please…”

They were careful. A third finger joined the first two, sliding into him with some discomfort. He breathed deeply, trying to relax.

It had been so long.

"More," he said breathlessly, selfishly.

They pumped him a few more times, but didn't give him what he wanted. A few more slow pumps, a slight curve of their fingers that had him seeing stars. His strangled moan didn’t move them.

"What do we say, Siebren?" They raised an eyebrow, expectantly.

"Please...give me more, please."

They obliged at that, pushing slightly harder, slightly faster. The discomfort was easing too slowly for his liking. He knew better than to demand more before he was ready, and he knew they would never oblige, but god he wanted it.

_ Finally _ he felt something shift. Hot pleasure began to spread, creeping up his spine. An obscene moan erupted from his chest, and he felt nothing but pleasure. He tried to keep his hips still, tried not to rock against them, but he failed. The noises he made were new, strangled and high and breathless.

"Speak." Their voice brought him back down again.

"I, ah...I'm ready," he managed to say, turning his head. He couldn’t look at them. He had to focus on something else. He looked at the clock on their bedside table, but his mind refused to translate what the numbers meant. How long had it been?

"Ready for what?" Their voice was almost teasing. They would do nothing he didn't ask for. Even so they stopped, peeling the glove off their hand. It was discarded somewhere off the bed, and they looked him in the eyes as they rolled the condom on and began to slick themself up. They rolled their hips into every motion, chasing their own pleasure and teasing him with it.

"Fuck me, please." He wasn't ashamed of how he begged, looking at their eyes and digging his fingers into the sheets desperately. "I've been good...please."

They pumped themself few more times, leaning forward to press their lips against his chin. He felt their tip press against him, replacing their fingers.

“You’ve done so good," they confirmed, punctuating the last word with a soft bite to his ear. "You're doing perfect, love...perfect.”

The praise went straight to his dick, and all he could do was moan as finally, slowly, agonizingly, they slid into him.

The stretch was welcome and delicious. His head fell back and he grabbed the sheets above him so tightly he thought he might rip them. A part of him wanted them to slam into him, but most of him was basking in the gentle care they were treating him with. They tugged him closer, giving him one long, lazy kiss before straightening up. One hand gripped his hip while the other steadied themself on his knee. They pressed his legs down, spreading him and leaving him open and still. They were so careful as they pushed, rolling their hips ever so slightly until they were flush with his.

They set an agonizing pace, slow and careful. Only when they were fully seated in him did they let go of his legs, letting them fall around their waist. His shaking legs didn't quite have the strength to wrap around them, and they were a bit too long to do so comfortably, but he did his best. Without his hands, he had precious little to do to pull them closer, but he  _ needed  _ them to be closer.

It was as good as his fantasy. They were so much smaller than him, but they  _ towered  _ above him now, lidded eyes staring down at him in affectionate satisfaction. As he adjusted they picked up their pace ever so slightly, gripping his hips and rocking into him. Every roll or mistimed thrust had him moaning, chasing the release that, with subtle pauses and slowing thrusts, they denied him. His implants buzzed, but he kept a firm hold on his abilities. Well...for the most part. If a few books were displaced from the shelf behind them, Cash wouldn’t notice.

It felt like years he was there, fingers tingling and legs shaking as they fucked him. It took them only a few thrusts to find the perfect spot, the perfect angle to rip strangled moans from him. He tried to lift his hips to meet them, only for them to stop every time he tried. He chased them, and they almost pulled out entirely.

“Behave.”

With one word, they had him cowed. His hips and head fell back. They let him gasp there a few more infinite minutes before they picked up again, this time with power behind their slow thrusts. Each hit had him gasping, seeing stars, reaching for something to hold onto. With his hands above him, he felt like he was floating, powerless and weightless and completely at their mercy.

It was far from unpleasant.

Without warning, they took hold of his neglected cock with one hand, and began to stroke him. A sobbing whine was pulled from his throat, and another chorus of a whispered, “ _ Please. _ ” Their hand moved in time with their hips, and it was too much.

In contrast to everything else, it felt like an instant before Siebren came, with a strangled moan so loud he thought he might be heard in the street. His vision went white and his hips bucked up into Cash’s last, powerful thrusts. It felt like his entire body came apart, not violently and painfully, but slowly and purposefully. If he screamed, he couldn’t hear it over the blood roaring in his head, the thumping of his heart in his ears.

He could only lay there for several minutes. Cash’s hips had stilled, but they kept a very slow, steady rhythm on his cock. His hips spasmed, weakly and irregularly thrusting into their grip as his body chased more pleasure and left his mind far behind. They did nothing to stop him now, letting him work himself into overstimulation on their palm.

He finally stilled when he felt like his nerves were coming undone. Every touch on his hips he felt in his ribs like an electric shock. He half-sobbed when they rubbed their thumb over his tip, wiping away a bead of cum. He couldn’t focus on their hands, and their cock still inside him, and the throbbing of his thighs. It was all too much.

“Are you alright?”

Their voice cut through his haze, and reminded his heart to beat again. He took a moment to catch his breath, and still sound breathless when he replied.

“I am much more than alright.” His voice sounded ragged even to him.

“Good. You did so good, Siebren.” They stopped stroking him, and with their other hand reached forward and cupped his face. They pulled out slowly, and he sighed quietly as the loss.

His legs went limp down on the bed, and his eyes slid closed. How long had it been?

He couldn’t do much more than tilt his head into their kiss. He wanted to lose himself in the soft, sweet pecks they pressed to the corner of his mouth, and the feeling of their tongue and teeth on his bottom lip. They pulled away too soon to clean up. They nearly tripped over a cat, cursing loudly as they stumbled into their dresser.

He couldn’t even turn his head as they cleaned themself up. He didn’t have the energy. They cleaned him as well, wiping his ass and legs and belly with a soft wet towel he didn’t remember seeing them fetch. He didn’t have the energy to do anything more than roll over on command, and they didn’t seem to mind. Their hands were firm and gentle, picking up all the scattered pieces of him and putting them very carefully back where they belonged.

They nudged him to move, pulling the towel off the bed and letting him sink into the comforters. The blankets were  _ soft _ , and thick, and he melted into them. He sipped the water they brought him.

It was only when they sat back down on the bed beside him that he had the ability to do anything. He rolled over and wrapped one heavy arm around their waist. He tugged them closer until he could wrap himself around them. He was exhausted. They twisted to look down at his face, pressed against their hip.

“What’s up?”

“Lay down with me?” His voice was quiet and ragged.

They smiled, tired and sunny.

“Sure. Can you stand to pee?”

“I have no need.” 

They hummed. “Alright.” They pulled away, shepherding him around the bed so they could pull the heavy comforter over him. It was weighted, and smelled like cats. They slid in beside him, and pulled him close.

He pressed his ear to their chest, and let their heart be the beat to the melody in his mind.

As they held him, everything went quiet. White noise soothed his mind, and their hands soothed his body. They rubbed at his arms and shoulders, and pressed kisses to his forehead.

“Get some rest, Sibren,” they told him.

He nodded and wrapped his arms around them, pulling them closer.

They stroked between his shoulder blades with gentle fingers, and he hummed into their chest. Within minutes, there was more weight at their feet, and he saw a large orange-and-black cat spread out over their legs, with a purr like a dying engine. It took only a few moments for him to give in to the exhaustion. He closed his eyes, leaned against them, and he rested.

His dreams were gentle and slow. He drifted to consciousness only a few times, and each time fell asleep to Cash’s breathing and the purr of another cat. When he finally woke up to the insistent buzz of his phone, he felt rested and relaxed for the first time in months. His body was warm, his mind was quiet, and the universe was right. Even the displeased texts demanding where he was failed to bring up any anxiety or frustration. He had forgotten all about his driver, waiting for him around the block.

Right now, that felt like a problem for another time.

He placed a kiss on Cash’s sleeping forehead. Their eyes opened slowly, and he suspected they’d been awake for a while.

“Hey.”

“Hello.”

“How are you feeling?”

He sighed and rested his forehead against theirs. “Much better. Thank you.”

They sighed and stroked their thumb on his ribs. “Whatever you need.” They smiled softly. “Promise.” 

**Author's Note:**

> I know literally nothing about physics or math. I know only the need to top men who are twice my size.
> 
> Fun fact: Cash is a remix of my Ryder (from Mass Effect Andromeda), but aged up a few years, and obviously not lost in another galaxy (unless Sigma is very creative naming his dick).


End file.
